


falling like a feather

by deathishauntedbyhumans



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Anniversary, Chickens, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:35:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26392750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathishauntedbyhumans/pseuds/deathishauntedbyhumans
Summary: Muriel is carving something for Julian. The what and the why are both secrets.
Relationships: Julian Devorak/Muriel
Comments: 1
Kudos: 47





	falling like a feather

Julian is lounging (he never sits, never lies; instead, he always lounges or lazes or sprawls) on the floor next to Muriel’s bed, his nose tucked deep in a medical book about the dangers of open sores and fresh wounds. Every few minutes, Muriel glances up from the half-carved feather in his hands to check on him, only to find that he hasn’t moved at all from the position he’d dropped into an hour ago when he’d come sauntering into the hut in the first place. 

“Today has been a shitshow,” he’d declared enigmatically, waving his arms in the air and nearly tossing his book from his slippery fingers in the process. “I’ve decided I’m no longer a doctor. I’m going to hide away in this hut until I wither away and die, and you can carry my body out for the worms to feast upon.” 

Muriel had been… well, he does wish he could say that he’d been unamused, but in reality, a small smile had quirked up the side of his mouth no matter what he’d done to quell it. Julian’s dramatics have grown on him, after all, as much as he hates to admit it aloud. “You wouldn’t do that,” is all he’d said in response. Julian had laughed. 

“No, I wouldn’t,” he had agreed, falling onto the floor like a sack full of rocks had been foisted upon him. “I am tired, though.” 

Muriel had hummed sympathetically --he had absolutely  _ meant  _ the sound sympathetically, although it may have merely sounded like one of his regular, uninterested hums in retrospect-- and ducked his head, intent on continuing the project he’d begun on a whim earlier in the day. He’d meant to have it finished by the time that Julian came bursting through the door, but between feeding the chickens and fixing up some of the wards around the hut, he’d been distracted enough that he hadn’t begun carving until it was nearly time for Julian to be finished with his work in the clinic he’d sprung up a few weeks prior. 

And now, Julian is here, and the feather Muriel wants to give him barely resembles a piece of wood, much less an intricately carved ornament for him to display. 

“I didn’t ask,” Julian says a few minutes later, glancing up from his book. Muriel tries to casually slip the feather behind one of his hands to hide it from Julian’s line of sight. “What did you get up to today?” 

“Fed the chickens,” Muriel replies easily. “Brushed up some of the wards.” He is well-aware of Julian’s aversion to the mention of magic on most occasions, but they’ve grown close enough that Julian tends to kindly look the other way when Muriel decides to talk about any of the wards or other pieces of imbued magic that reside around the hut and its surrounding forest. After all, they have had too many extensive conversations --and they’ve been  _ conversations _ , not  _ arguments _ , no matter what Asra might have to say about it-- about how the wards are the only protection that they have against anything in the woods that might have some kind of otherworldly vendetta against either of them for Julian to continue to be discomfited by it. “Nothing unusual.” He doesn’t mention the carving he is working on, and he sees Julian’s gaze flick down to his hands curiously before landing back on his face. 

He smiles softly, a ridiculously soft, lovestruck expression that makes Muriel feel as though a candle has melted suddenly inside of him. “I see,” he says. Julian doesn’t mention the carving, either. He goes back to his book without another word, leaving Muriel to work once again. 

Muriel knows that Julian is curious about what he’s doing, but he’s grateful that Julian has apparently decided that it’s not worth annoying Muriel to ask about it. Knowing him the way he does, Muriel is aware that Julian is only keeping himself busy and letting Muriel do what he’s doing because he knows that sooner or later, Muriel will either get bored and seek out affection in the stilted, nervous way he gets whenever he has to actively ask for Julian’s attention, or that he will eventually cave and show Julian what he’s working on of his own volition. 

A little more than an hour later, an intricate wooden feather is cradled lovingly between Muriel’s palms. 

“Julian,” he says, and Julian looks up at him immediately, without even bothering to mark his spot on the page in front of him. 

“Is everything alright?” he asks, and Muriel wonders if he sounds or looks too serious for the occasion. He tries to flatten his features, to smooth them into something more neutral, more affectionate. 

“Everything is fine,” he assures him quietly. “Will— Will you come here?”

Instantly, Julian’s features smooth too, into a soft grin that does terrible, illegal things to Muriel’s insides. He hefts his lanky form up off the floor and tosses his book onto Muriel’s bed before crossing the length of the hut in three easy strides. Muriel hides the feather between his hands and does his best to pretend that he isn’t as nervous as he feels. 

Julian drapes his arms around Muriel’s shoulders and lets his forehead drop down against Muriel’s own. “Are you sure you’re alright, my love? You’re sweating.”

Muriel hums softly to affirm his general state of being, and then nuzzles forward, brushing a gentle kiss to Julian’s lips. Julian gives a pleased hum of his own and tries to deepen the kiss, but Muriel pulls back before he’s able and can’t help but laugh at the put-out expression Julian’s gets on his face. 

“I have something for you,” he rumbles. 

“Oh?” Julian feigns surprise, badly. “For me?”

Muriel blows on him for his insolence, and Julian sticks his tongue out in response. 

“ _ Yes _ , for you,” Muriel repeats, giving in. How can he not, when Julian is smiling at him softly like he’s looking at someone worth loving. It makes him feel soft and gooey inside, like cooling wax. “I wanted to do something for you. Today is—“ He fumbles for a moment, the words lost somewhere inside of the molten lake that has become his organs. “Today is… special,” he gets out after a moment. “So…” He slowly opens his hands, letting the feather rest on his open palms. “This is for you.”

A soft, breathless gasp makes its way from between Julian’s parted lips, and he pulls away from Muriel enough to carefully take the feather into his own hands. He cradles it reverently, and when he looks up at Muriel, his eyes are shining like he’s about to cry. “What important date am I forgetting?” he asks, a hitch in his voice. 

Muriel shakes his head, gently brushing his hands underneath Julian’s and cradling them just as reverently as Julian is holding the feather. “It’s special to me,” he explains slowly, because he knows if he does this wrong it will come out sounding sideways and not the way he’s getting at. “Last year, you fed the chickens with me for the first time.” He feels himself flush, because saying it aloud makes him feel a mite foolish. 

Julian’s mouth forms a silent  _ oh,  _ and then he smiles that same soft smile that makes Muriel feel like he’s melting. He leans in and kisses Muriel again, softly, careful not to disturb the carving in his hands. 

“Sentimental,” he murmurs against Muriel’s lips, and Muriel ducks his head. 

“...shut up.” 

Julian only laughs and waits until Muriel chances a glance upwards to kiss him again. “I love you so much, do you know that?” he adds, when they have to come up for air. 

Muriel’s blush deepens. “...I’m aware.”

When Julian sets the carving aside so that he can drape himself over Muriel like a ragdoll and kiss him senseless, Muriel rolls his eyes but wraps his arms tightly around him like he’s afraid he’ll change his mind. After all, this  _ is  _ an anniversary, albeit a bit of a silly one. They might as well celebrate the thing properly, or not at all. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> hnnnnmmm i’m love them
> 
> Come scream at me on tumblr! @deathishauntedbyhumans


End file.
